


Goes Bump in The Night

by hyenateeth



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, F/F, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyenateeth/pseuds/hyenateeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why would you like me? Have you <i>seen</i> me? Talked to me? I mean I could understand maybe you could get past the looks thing if my personality weren’t shit but I mean- goddammit Enjolras I literally have venomous snakes growing from my head-”</p><p>“Snakes that like me,” interrupted Enjolras, and okay, she didn’t have to sound so fucking smug about it.</p><p>*<br/>Grantaire is a gorgon. Enjolras is a siren. They probably shouldn't work together, but they can talk about that later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goes Bump in The Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a little Halloween monstergirl porn oneshot. I started it on Halloween. But here we are. November 17th. 8000+ words later.
> 
> Oh well. Have some seasonally inappropriate Gorgon!Fem!Grantaire/Siren!Fem!Enjolras anyway. 
> 
> (I am hypothetically capable of writing things that aren't lesbian porn.)

Grantaire’s snakes squirmed whenever she saw Enjolras, and she hated it, because she _thought_ she had gotten control over them years ago. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like feeling them there. She wanted to forget that they are there entirely.

But when Enjolras was around, they squirm. And Grantaire hated that. 

But it didn’t stop her.

* * *

Grantaire drummed her brass nails against the bartop, making a soft clinking noise every time she did so. She needed to file them down, but it was a pain, an inconvenience. So much about her life was inconvenience, the snakes, the nails, the looks. Especially the looks. 

There was an old legend that the Gorgons came to be through a curse, and Grantaire was more that willing to believe that, sometimes.

Of course, she knew Enjolras would get angry if she heard her say that, and not the good kind of angry where her feathers ruffled and she began to shout in her pretty voice. No, she would get quiet, that unsettling quiet that she got when Grantaire had really disappointed her. Grantaire hated it when Enjolras was quiet. It wasn’t natural, not for Enjolras.

Grantaire paused in her tapping, and glanced around, her eyes finding Enjolras across the room. She was sitting at a table, sitting with Combeferre, and she was talking, big with her hands. Probably about inhuman rights again. What was she saying? Grantaire was far too far away, and the bar was too dark to read lips, but Grantaire tried to fill in anyway.

 _“-stereotypes like that are how they keep us second class citizens,”_ she would probably say. _“Acting like we’re menaces when most inhumans are just trying to live normal lives-”_

The snakes stirred, and Grantaire frowned, turning back to her drink. The alcohol calmed the snakes, kept them under control, kept them sluggish. When she was 19 she had discovered that when she drank enough the black snakes curled on her head and down and around her shoulders, sleeping mostly, some still hissing softly. It made everything easier. 

(When she had been 8 years old one of her snakes, one of the _venomous_ ones had bitten a human classmate, and Grantaire had almost been expelled. She had cried and tried to explain that it wasn’t her fault, the girl had tried to pull one, and they had an anti-venom in the school so she was alright, but no, she was told. It was her fault. A Gorgon should learn to control her snakes, not be a _menace to society_.)

So she drank a lot now. 

She downed her scotch, then turned back to look at Enjolras again, snakes now somewhat sated on her head. She was still talking, and gods, how could she talk that much? Enjolras already ran their little meetings for Militant Monsters (which was not what they were called, and Enjolras had yelled at her the last time she heard her say that, but whatever), and Grantaire couldn’t grasp how she could stand to talk about this shit on her spare time too. Grantaire could barely stand being inhuman everyday, she certainly didn’t want to _think_ about it too.

It was probably easier for Enjolras though. Enjolras was a siren, a proper greek siren with beautiful blonde hair and pink lips and tawny, soft-looking feathers on her shoulders that Grantaire wanted to stroke when she was too drunk to suppress such thoughts.

Enjolras was a _siren._ She was beautiful and deadly and. Everything. She was everything. 

Grantaire was nothing. Grantaire was a gorgon, deadly and cold and _nothing._ Enjolras did not have vipers on her head or skin grayer than it should be, or _hell_ , a reputation for being so goddamn ugly just _looking_ at you would turn you to stone.

(That wasn’t true, of course, the stone thing. She could control it. She had never turned anyone into stone, but sometimes, sometimes she felt the desire, the instinct, when she was very threatened, and though she had never done it she knew she could do it with just a look and-)

Grantaire was lost in thought, stroking one of her snakes that was snoozing on her shoulder with a careful, brass-nailed finger, when all of a sudden Enjolras seemed to stop whatever she was saying to Combeferre, and turned suddenly, her blue eyes locking with Grantaire’s. Immediately Grantaire felt her stomach clench, and all her snakes shifted, the one under her finger waking, hissing, and wrapping around her hand.

Quickly Grantaire looked away, trying to focus, to settle her snakes. She hated that. She hated that just a look would do that to her. She knew Enjolras, Enjolras was literally hypnotizing to the average human, even the above average human, but not Grantaire. Not another monster. 

Grantaire was not under any spell. That was the frustrating part. It would be easier if she was, because at least then it would make sense but-

“Grantaire!” 

Grantaire forced her gaze back in the direction of the table Enjolras was at, and Combeferre, with her ram horns and her easy smile, was motioning her to come over. Enjolras was still staring at her, mouth drawn up in a hard line, and god _dammit_ , why wouldn’t the snakes just stop squirming around like excited children? 

Grantaire drew her own mouth up into a smile, close lipped and stiff, making sure not a hint of her fangs poked out, before pushing herself off her bar stool and sidling over to their table with practiced casualness. 

“Comrades,” she greeted, the mellow, lightly sarcastic quality of her voice contrasting with the nervous slithering of her snakes, which she hoped they wouldn’t notice. “You needed something? Drink recommendations? None for you though, Mourning Dove. We all know you’re a _feather-weight_.”

Grantaire wished Courfeyrac was at the table with them instead of playing pool with Bahorel in the corner, because Courfeyrac would have laughed at her bad joke, even though it was probably the fiftieth time she had told it.

Enjolras just kept her glare steady and steamrolled over it, like she hadn’t even heard it. “You’re sitting by yourself,” she said, strong and sure like everything she said. “This is supposed to be a celebration.”

Right. A celebration. They had _successfully_ gotten their voices heard, had presented before the city council (witches and wizards mostly, stuffy humans in their robes) about better healthcare for werewolves. Grantaire didn’t really know why she was at this celebration. She hadn’t been helpful. She had watched mostly, watched them plan, watched them research, watch them write letters and petitions. She had watched them today in court, sat in the back, next to an old human woman who kept eyeing her snakes nervously. 

She had watched Enjolras talk to the council, blonde hair tied back, not a feather out of place, about the alienation of inhumans, how treating them like they’re unsafe and not helping them does nothing to help anyone, before stepping down to let Feuilly talk to the council about life as a werewolf. 

The woman next to her had moved by the time Feuilly was speaking, because Grantaire had not been able to keep her snakes from writhing while she watched Enjolras speak about her convictions. 

“We’re in a bar.” Grantaire shrugged. “We’re drinking. I don’t see how I’m not participating in the celebration.”

“I think,” and it was Combeferre again, smiling at Grantaire. “What Enjolras is trying to do is invite you to sit with us.”

Grantaire doubted that, what with the way Enjolras’ face screwed up more at Combeferre’s words, but she kept smiling and pulled out a chair to sit in. “Missed my illustrious company did you? I don’t blame you. I suppose I can spare a few minutes.”

Enjolras stared at her silently for an uncomfortable moment, then nodded jerkily, before turning back to Combeferre. “So, as I was saying-”

“Can you hold that thought Enjolras? I’m going to go get another drink. You want anything?” 

Enjolras shook her head as Grantaire eyed what seemed to be a cup of cola that wasn’t even finished, and then Combeferre was standing and leaving her alone with Enjolras and her intense blue eyes. Grantaire looked down, pretending her nails were suddenly very interesting to her. 

“I saw you in court today,” said Enjolras firmly. Everything about Enjolras’ demeanor was firm. Sometimes. Sometimes that was comforting. Sometimes it wasn’t. 

“I was in the back,” sighed Grantaire, wishing she had brought her drink over, or asked Combeferre to get her one. “You weren’t supposed to see me in the back.”

“I did.” ( _Of course she did. Eagle eyes._ ) “Why didn’t you want to be seen?”

Grantaire looked up from her nails. Enjolras had changed from her suit, and was now back in jeans and a red tank top that showed off her pretty feathers. “I didn’t want to distract you. I would hardly want it to turn out like one of the meetings.”

Enjolras smiled at that, and _that_ was weird. “It was... odd. Not having you interrupt me.”

Grantaire stiffened, and a snake by her ear hissed unhappily. When she didn’t respond, Enjolras kept going.

“I was. I was glad to see you there though. It. It was nice.”

Grantaire raised a skeptical eyebrow. This was strange. Enjolras didn’t stammer or struggle with words. It may not be singing to lure men to their deaths (not anymore, and if she said that Enjolras would go on a tangent on how that hadn’t been a tradition for over a thousand years) but her voice was still her gift. Enjolras was _amazing_ with words. 

This, this was abnormal. 

“You’re not drinking are you?” she asked. “Not that I would blame you, I mean, you earned it. Is there rum in there?” 

Enjolras’ feathers puffed. “What? No, why would-”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Nevermind.” Grantaire quickly turned to look for Combeferre, and of course she had stopped at the bar and was talking to Jehan, who had vines and flowers growing on the wood where she was leaning. Jehan looked a little drunk, and Jehan could wax poetic for hour hours when she was drunk. So no Combeferre to save her.

“Nevermind,” she said again, even though it clearly wasn’t necessary. “I should probably be going.”

She wasn’t at all expecting Enjolras to quickly add “Let me go with you!”

“What?”

“I mean-” and it was probably a trick of the light, but it almost looked like Enjolras was blushing. “I mean I was thinking about leaving soon too. And we’re in the same direction. So I’ll walk with you.”

“It’s your celebration. You should stay.” 

Enjolras scowled again and Grantaire almost breathed a sigh of relief. That, at least, was an expression on Enjolras that made sense. “Drinking is hardly my idea of a celebration.”

“Well yeah. You’re boring so...”

“I’m not boring! If you don’t want me walking with you just say-”

“It’s fine.” Grantaire’s snakes wriggled and hissed. “You can walk with me. It’s fine. Just. Just come on then.” 

Enjolras nodded and said something about just saying goodbye to the others first, but Grantaire was already standing to leave. She waited for Enjolras outside of the bar, hands shoved in her pockets, trying to ignore the excited hissing around her. 

“Shut up,” she muttered to the snakes, even though she knew as well as anyone they didn’t understand human speech. “Shut up. I don’t know what’s going on but she’s probably. Just drunk. Or in some kind of weird Enjolras good mood. Healthcare debates just really get her going its not- she doesn’t-”

_She doesn’t... Doesn’t what?_

When Enjolras comes out it was a little comforting, because her face was _normal_ again, no shy smiles or probably imagined blushes. She is back to default, determined and stony and fiercely lovely in a coat that completely covered her feathers. She almost looked human like that. 

“Are you ready,” she said simply and Grantaire shrugged, and they began to walk in complete silence. 

The longer they stayed silent, the more Grantaire felt a strange tension between them. She kept trying to think of reasons why Enjolras would want to walk home with her. The conclusion that seemed most probable was that she just wanted to leave but didn’t want to walk alone. With her coat Enjolras looked pretty, human-ish, maybe a target for some dumb mugger who wouldn’t see her sharp teeth. Grantaire certainly would ward off against attackers; a gorgon in a leather jacket tended to do that. Even if said gorgon was really just Grantaire, functional alcoholic and mouthy fuck-up extraordinaire.

The snakes made her look tougher than she was. The leather jacket helped too.

Still, it was weird. Enjolras was being weird. Maybe she was sick. 

“You’re being quiet.” Enjolras interrupted her thoughts, eyes fixed straight ahead. 

Grantaire blinked. “I should be saying that to you.”

Enjolras made a thoughtful humming noise and still didn’t look at Grantaire.

This was so fucking weird. 

They stayed silent until they reached Enjolras building, and then Enjolras looked at Grantaire with the same direct gaze she looked at everyone. 

“This is me,” she said. 

“Right,” was all Grantaire said in response. 

Enjolras made no move to go inside. “Come in with me.” 

“What?”

“I really did appreciate you coming to the court today. I’m not sure if I made that clear earlier.” 

Grantaire blinked. “What?”

Enjolras seemed annoyed that Grantaire was not comprehending the meaning of the random statements she was throwing at Grantaire. “I’m inviting you inside. For a drink or something. Because I’m glad that you were there.” 

Oh. Well. 

“Um, yeah. I guess I could come in for a few minutes.” Grantaire said casually, like the snakes weren’t undulating with happiness on her head. Fucking drama queens.

Enjolras’ apartment was not exactly what Grantaire had imagined it would be. She had imagined something large and expensive, sparklingly clean and well lit 24-7, with a shower that never went cold when you were in the middle of trying to wash your snakes when they were shedding.

It _was_ bigger than Grantaire’s studio, and it _was_ cleaner, but it looked lived in too, and a little cozy. 

“Make yourself at home,” said Enjolras, heading straight to the kitchenette. “Do you want anything? Coffee?”

“Um, whatever’s fine.” Grantaire looked around. She felt out of place, because this was Enjolras’ apartment. This was where Enjolras ate and slept and studied everyday, and Grantaire had no place there. Grantaire had no place in Enjolras’ life at all, except maybe the annoyance, so much of a nuisance that she was normalized too it.

But Enjolras was back from the kitchenette all too quickly. “I put water on.” She said. “For coffee.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“Is it too cold in here? Combeferre runs hot so we usually keep it a little chilly. I can turn the heat up for you.”

It was a little cold for Grantaire, being a bit more reptilian and all, but she just shrugged. “It’s fine. Don’t want Combeferre to be sweaty when she gets back.”

“Combeferre won’t be back for a while tonight.”

There was something weird about the way she said that, and Grantaire didn’t know how to respond so she just stood there, hands shoved in her jeans pockets, looking at Enjolras sheepishly. Enjolras just stared back for a long moment, intensity undiluted, before she broke the eye contact, moving to stack some books that were laying around, almost nervously. 

“So how did you think it went in court today?”

 _I think you were the most beautiful thing and I know a siren’s song is supposed to be what enchants people but your song is whenever you talk about your passions and-_ “You don’t want to hear what I think.”

“I don’t ask questions I don’t want the answer too.”

Grantaire had no books to organize, but she did suddenly find Enjolras’ wall very interesting. 

“I think they only listened to you so they could say they heard the other side and not be accused of ignoring it when they vote against us. I think most human politicians have made their mind up about us, and don’t want to change them.”

She didn’t look at Enjolras, so she didn’t see what kind of face she made. She just heard the silence, and then the small response of “You really feel that way?” 

Grantaire shrugged and one of her snakes hissed loudly. And then, she didn’t know why, but she said, “For what it’s worth though, I think if anyone is capable of proving me wrong, it’s you.”

There was a long silence and then all of a sudden from behind her Enjolras blurted “Why don’t your snakes like me?”

That surprised Grantaire so much she actually turned back around, and to her surprise Enjolras was pink all the way down to her neck, and looked upset, like someone had kicked over her sandcastle. “What?” she coughed.

“You... They... I was really happy to see you at the court. I-I always thought maybe you only came to meetings because you have friends there but... I hoped maybe...” Her blush seemed to darken and she looked even more upset. “But whenever I talk to you your snakes wake up and start hissing and... I know we fight but I never wanted you to feel like... I mean... Dammit Grantaire I want them- I want you to like me!”

Grantaire was dreaming. She had fallen asleep on the bar and this was a dream, and soon Jehan would be waking her up and helping her home. Or this was an alternate dimension, or Enjolras was possessed, or something. Something had to be going on, because this wasn’t Enjolras, Enjolras didn’t trip over her words or look at Grantaire like, like _that_.

“You don’t care if anyone likes you,” muttered Grantaire, trying to sort through her thoughts in as little words as possible. “That’s like. That’s your _thing_. You don’t care what people think about you.”

If Enjolras’ feathers weren’t covered they would be ruffling, Grantaire was sure. “You’re... You’re special.”

Grantaire was dead. She had passed out, died, eaten the lotuses. There was no way this was real. 

“I’m really not.” 

Enjolras scowled heavily. “Do you have to disagree with everything I say?”

Okay maybe this was Enjolras. In which case. Grantaire had to be misunderstanding, that was all. Enjolras was... Maybe Enjolras wanted to be friends, better friends, and gods if Grantaire wouldn’t kill for that.

So she bit her lip, and confessed, almost too quietly, “My snakes don’t dislike you.” 

Enjolras, if possible, frowned harder. “I’m not blind Grantaire. I can see how they react when I-”

But Grantaire cut her off by taking a step forward and reaching out, loosely slipping her fingers around Enjolras’ wrist. 

“Trust me?” she mumbled when Enjolras fell silent, and she wouldn’t have been insulted if Enjolras had said no, but she looked at her, and then nodded seriously.

So, slowly, carefully, she lifted Enjolras’ hand, up to her head, looking down as she did so. Enjolras was stiff, but she did not flinch when several snakes reached out, engulfing her hand, slithering around it, hissing softly, none of them making any move to bite. 

“My snakes don’t dislike you,” muttered Grantaire. “They... They really like you, actually.”

“Grantaire...” 

“It... It can be hard to tell with snakes but they-”

She cut herself of with a choking noise, because Enjolras was turning her hand, letting one the snakes settle contentedly in her hand, and in the same movement, leaning in to it, pressing her lips to its head, and it was more a brushing of lips then a kiss, barely there, but Grantaire felt it like a shock to her body. 

_No one had ever- No one had ever wanted to-_

“Why di-” she sputtered, jerking her head back up to look Enjolras in the eyes, the snakes hissing in protest at being jerked away and (embarrassingly) stretching out toward Enjolras, but apparently the siren was big on Grantaire not finishing sentences right now, because she was being cut off in a very similar manner to before, except this time the lips were being pressed to her, and it was most definitely a kiss.

Grantaire squeaked, _squeaked,_ and she was suddenly once again not sure if she was alive, because this kind of thing _didn’t happen to her._

It was over a second later, Enjolras was pulling back, breathily muttering “I’m sorry, I should have asked, you were just so-”

And because turnabout was fair play she never got to finish that sentence, because Grantaire was kissing her a second later. And Enjolras caught on a bit faster than Grantaire, kissed her back right away, hard and intense and it was so very Enjolras, Grantaire couldn’t believe it. 

So she pulled back. 

“Look,” she gasped, and gods it was hard not to go right back to kissing Enjolras because wow, Enjolras post-kissing was a sight. “I have no idea what’s going on right now and I would like an explanation. One with small words. Treat me like I’m dumb.”

Enjolras bit her lip again, and her hands were gripping the leather of Grantaire’s jacket like it was a lifeline. “I like you.”

“You’ve lost me already.”

“Gran _taire-_ ”

“No, Enjolras!” And Grantaire grabbed sleeves of Enjolras’ jacket, just like Enjolras was holding her, so they were literally just standing in the middle of Enjolras’ living room holding each other’s sleeves and _this was so ridiculous._ “Why would you like me? Have you _seen_ me? Talked to me? I mean I could understand maybe you could get past the looks thing if my personality weren’t shit but I mean- goddammit Enjolras I literally have venomous snakes growing from my head-”

“Snakes that like me,” interrupted Enjolras, and okay, she didn’t have to sound so fucking smug about it.

“That’s not the point Enjolras! You... I mean.. You...” Grantaire’s voice dropped, and her stomach hurt, and she didn’t know how to explain the tempest in her mind to Enjolras. “You’re a siren Enjolras. You’re so, so beautiful and passionate, and-and when you talk I understand why someone would risk their lives to hear your voice... And I’m... I know I’m not attractive...”

“You think you’re not attractive?” 

Grantaire was taken back my the genuine surprise in Enjolras’ voice.

“I’m a gorgon Enjolras. Not exactly the paragon’s of physical beauty.”

And then Enjolras was pouting, which was new and adorable and a little arousing all at once. “Not by the patriarchal, human-centric, oppressive beauty standards that our society uses to belittle inhumans! Besides...” And Enjolras’ voice changed on a dime, and suddenly her body was pressed flush against Grantaire’s. “I think I’m making it very clear that _I_ find you attractive.”

Grantaire felt dizzy, but in the best possible way. She could feel the warmth of her body, even through their clothes, and it was overwhelming, but she wanted more. “You’re really going to have to give me some time to process this considering until like, five minutes ago I was working under the dual assumptions that you didn’t like me and had no discernible sex drive.”

Enjolras hummed, her fingers coming up to toy with the edge of Enjolras’ jacket. “Well, as usual you were wrong on all fronts. Can I kiss you again? I’d like to prove you wrong.”

Grantaire was only really capable of a groan before their lips met again, and they both stumbled backwards until Grantaire’s legs hit the couch, and she collapsed onto it, Enjolras following, straddling her lap and pressing small, hot kisses to Grantaire’s cheek and jawline. 

“I’d wanted to do this for a while,” Enjolras whispered between kisses, and Grantaire was drowning. “You’re so talented and smart and-and amazing... I knew I wanted to but I alway hesitated and thought you didn’t like me... But then you were there, in court, and you’re always there and I thought maybe now I could...”

“I can’t believe you thought I didn’t like you,” mumbled Grantaire in response, reaching up to unbutton Enjolras’ coat. “You’re so dumb sometimes.”

She could feel Enjolras laugh against her skin, and that was pretty much the most amazing feeling, second maybe to Enjolras moving back up to reclaim her lips, and the resonation of her sweet, small moan inside her mouth as they kissed.

She had managed to fumble open the buttons and was peeling the coat off of Enjolras shoulders though, when a high pitched noise came from the kitchen, making them both jump.

“Shit, the water!” swore Enjolras, jumping back from Grantaire, detangling herself from her lap. 

“What, no, wait don’t go-”

“Grantaire, burning the apartment down will hardly help set the mood!” And she stomped off, ignoring Grantaire’s plaintive whine and the way both her arms and her snakes stretched out after her. 

She was back a minute or two later though, shucking off her coat herself and climbing back into Grantaire’s lap. However, she didn’t go back to her lips, and instead reached both her hands up, gently tangling them in Grantaire’s snakes, letting them curl around her, pressing her lips to the closest one. 

Grantaire gasped aloud, her hands steadying themselves at Enjolras’ hips. She could feel it, and even though it didn’t feel much different than Enjolras kissing, say, her hand, there was something frighteningly intimate about it, and it shocked Grantaire with every light touch of lips. She was letting her lips touch every snake that got close enough, and no one had ever wanted to touch her snakes. Most of her lovers in the past, human and inhuman alike, had done their best to pretend they weren’t there, and here was Enjolras, kissing them like they were _beautiful_. 

So, before she could stop herself, Grantaire gasped “Can I touch your feathers?”

Enjolras pulled back. Grantaire panicked.

“I mean, I don’t have too, whatever you’re comfortable with...”

But Enjolras didn’t say anything, she just reached down and took Grantaire’s hands, guiding them up and to her bare shoulders. 

Grantaire stopped breathing a little bit.They were soft, soft and silky and warm under her fingers, and Enjolras trembled a little as she stroked them. 

“Are my hands cold?” she mumbled, trying to stop herself from burying her face into her shoulder and inhaling. 

“A little,” sighed Enjolras, trembling again. “It feels nice though. Don’t stop.”

Well shit. 

Grantaire surged up, kissing Enjolras fiercely, and Enjolras responded in kind, and Grantaire couldn’t stop stroking the soft feathers under her fingers. Without meaning to she pushed the straps of Enjolras’ tank top and bra off of one shoulder, and Enjolras moaned when she did it so she figured it was okay, kept stroking them and _how far did her feather’s go down anyway? Would she let her see?_

Enjolras’ hands weren’t slack either, as they had moved down and were reaching into Grantaire’s jacket, fingers brushing up and down the the sides of her waist and breasts, softly and teasingly and Grantaire wanted more, she wanted as much of Enjolras as she could get.

She tried to shift up into her, into her touch, and somehow in the process, one of her knees slipped between Enjolras’ thighs. Enjolras gasped against her lips, but before Grantaire could pull away and mumble and apology, she moaned throatily and ground her hips down, and _fuck,_ that was hot. They were both still fully clothed, but Grantaire already wound up and overwhelmed, because this was _Enjolras_. Enjolras was grinding against her leg and moaning into her mouth and letting her touch her feathers, and it was everything Grantaire had never even let herself fantasize about because she had been so goddamn _sure_ it would never happen. 

It was so overwhelming she had to break the kiss, leaning her head forward and indulging herself finally, trailing her lips down Enjolras’ throat before pressing her nose into the soft feathers that lined the crook of her neck and shoulders, breathing in the _earthy-warm-spicy-Enjolras_ scent.

“Grantaire...” Enjolras hips stuttered and she sighed above her, imploring. “Grantaire... Can I...” And the way that she tugged at her clothes made her question obvious. She nodded against Enjolras’ shoulder, and then Enjolras was pushing off her jacket. When that was off Grantaire pulled back slightly, pulling off her own shirt, carefully tugging it past her snakes. 

Enjolras made a noise and leaned in almost immediately, pressing her lips to Grantaire’s collarbone, lightly grazing it with sharp teeth, not quite enough to hurt, but enough to make her shudder with pleasure. 

She wanted something, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask Enjolras the way Enjolras asked her. She managed to get her hands to the hem of Enjolras’ tank top, but then they froze there, afraid to go further, afraid if she pushed Enjolras too much she would fuck up, ruin everything. 

But, because Grantaire had obviously done something very very right on a cosmic level, or because this was a beautiful dream that she didn’t want to wake up from, Enjolras got the message and pulled back, stripping her tank top off, and _gods_.

Her feathers stopped at the collarbone in the front, but went down her back past where Grantaire could see, and she as incredibly torn between running her fingers over those, or across Enjolras’ small, perfect, bra-covered breasts. 

Before she could make the decision though Enjolras was cupping Grantaire’s face in her hands, looking incredibly fond and more than a little aroused, and Grantaire wanted to cry because it was directed at _her_.

“Grantaire...” sighed Enjolras. “We should probably move to my room.”

All of Grantaire’s snakes twitched at once. “What?”

“I mean, not if you don’t want to. If this is too fast I don’t want to pressu-”

“I didn’t say that.” Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’ hips. “I can’t believe you think... I mean gods, Enjolras I’ve wanted this for... I don’t even know... I just... You really want to do this? With me?”

Enjolras’ gaze hardened just a little. “I thought I made that clear,” and her gaze was hard but her voice was husky, and she rolled her hips a little for emphasis. “I want you Grantaire. I like you. And you like me. Do you want to have sex with me?”

Grantaire groaned, and it was almost drowned out by her snakes hissing. “Yes. I do.”

“So stop over-thinking it. And we should move to my room so we don’t have to have sex on Combeferre’s couch.”

They stumbled off the couch and Enjolras led her to her room, and Grantaire kind of wanted to inspect it, see what kind of place Enjolras slept in, because Enjolras was letting her in now, and Grantaire wanted to revel in it as much as she could.

However, pressing up to Enjolras and kissing her seemed like a much better idea at the moment. 

“I never pegged you for the sex on the first date type,” she chuckled into Enjolras’ mouth. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Enjolras hummed. “Well apparently you didn’t peg me for the sex at all type. And besides, does this count as a date?” Enjolras was stumbling backwards toward her bed, bringing Grantaire with her. “I’d like to go on a proper date with you, if that’s okay.”

Grantaire snorted, but couldn’t find it in herself to voice her almost instinctual response of _“No you don’t, you’ve actually gone insane now because sometimes people want to fuck me but no one ever wants to date me, especially not gorgeous sirens who almost make me want to believe the gods were real.”_

Instead she just muttered, “I’d like that too.” Apparently she did have some self-preservation instinct that filtered what came out of her mouth. 

“Good,” said Enjolras as she pulled Grantaire down on the bed with her. 

And suddenly Enjolras was under her, long blonde hair sprawling over the bed, pulling her in for another deep kiss, and Grantaire was going to die if she didn’t get _more,_ more of what she didn’t know. She pressed her hands Enjolras stomach, feeling the warmth there, not sure if she wanted to move them up or down.

She picked a direction quickly though, slid them down, relishing the feeling of Enjolras moaning into her mouth, and brushed her hands along the hem of her jeans.

Enjolras pushed her back. 

She started to panic immediately, but Enjolras pressed a hand to her mouth before she could even finish her first “ _I’m sorry.”_

“I need to take my boots off.”

...Oh. Right. Grantaire’s shoes would be easy enough to slip off, but Enjolras was wearing the bulky, lace-up combat boots she seemed to always wear. Grantaire tried to not look too embarrassed as she rolled off her so Enjolras could begin unlacing her boots, taking off her own shoes in the meantime. 

They came off fairly quickly, and that was about when Grantaire realized she had never seen Enjolras’ feet before, which was mostly only relevant because they were not quite humanoid or avian, having a bit more talon and scaly texture than most people’s feet.

“Well well Mourning Dove, you are full of surprises,” she said as Enjolras kicked her boots of the bed. “This explains the footwear. Here I thought it was some kind of anarchist statement.” 

“No, shoe shopping is just hell.” And then she was pulling Grantaire over to her, and Grantaire wasn’t about to complain about that. 

Soon Grantaire had removed Enjolras’ pants and, after admiring the gentle curve of her thighs, settled into pressing kisses along Enjolras’ warm stomach, enjoying the small gasps coming from above her, occasionally slipping her hands along the edge of Enjolras’ bra, pretending not to notice the frustrated huffs that came when she moved them back away. It wasn't until she gave an annoyed whine did Grantaire push herself up, laughing softly as she reached around to unhook Enjolras’ bra.

As soon as Enjolras was exposed ( _-nipples hard and rosy against pale skin and gods she was beautiful-_ ) Grantaire cupped her small breasts in her palms, and the noise that came out of her mouth actually made Grantaire shiver, because every noise that came out of her mouth was mind-numbingly gorgeous.

“Not too cold?” she asked, more out of reflex than anything, because she knew her body was not human-warm, and sometimes people flinched away from it at first, but Enjolras was arching up into it, lips parted and eyes half-lidded. 

“Not too cold,” she confirmed breathily. “I like the way your hands feel on me.” 

If Grantaire died that instant, she would die happy. 

Except not, because if she got an inch she was going to take a mile, and she really needed to know what Enjolras sounded like when she came. 

Which was why she ended up with her mouth over one of Enjolras’ nipples, teasing the other with her hand, listening to the gasps and groans and soft murmurings of her names that were spilling out of pretty red lips. 

(It was a little tricky, admittedly, because Grantaire was not made for pleasuring, she was made for killing. She had fangs and brass nails, but if she was careful she wouldn’t hurt Enjolras, and it was worth the effort to hear her sigh “Grantaire,” in a way that made her stomach clench.)

And then Enjolras was grabbing her shoulders and squirming desperately, and her voice was strained but commanding when she gasped “Fuck me Grantaire.” 

Grantaire wanted to. She wanted to so bad she was going to explode.

Except she also realized something that probably should have occurred to her earlier.

“Shit I want to,” she muttered, moving up to kiss Enjolras’ jaw. “But uh. Not with my fingers. My nails... Well you know, and I haven’t filed them in a while they’re a little too long they might scratch... It’s been a while since I, um, yeah. But I could. Use my mouth. If you’re okay with that.”

As an answer Enjolras hooked a leg around Grantaire, pushing her down so their hips were pressed together, and if that wasn’t enough her breath was hot against Grantaire’s skin as she said “Why _wouldn’t_ I be okay with that?”

Grantaire probably should of stopped there, but she found herself mumbling “Well, I mean... In the past people haven’t wanted my snakes-”

Enjolras shut her up with an upward thrust of her hips. “What do I have to do to make you understand that I don’t have a problem with your snakes.”

“I wouldn’t be mad if you di-”

“I _don’t._ I like your snakes.” And before Grantaire could respond and say more dumb things Enjolras was grinding up insistently. “I like you more though. I want your mouth on me. I want _you._ Please Grantaire?” 

She was not ashamed to admit that she groaned aloud, pressing a quick, thankful kiss to Enjolras’ lips before moving down her body, running her lips down until she reached her hips, pressing kisses on the protruding bone as she slipped her fingers under the waistband of her underwear. 

Enjolras gave a small sigh as her panties were slipped off, squirming slightly as Grantaire repositioned herself on the bed, dipping her head down so she could press a kiss to the soft skin of her thigh. 

“Grantaire,” muttered Enjolras insistently, as Grantaire repeated the action on her other thigh, taking the time to suck a small red mark onto the delicate skin there. “Grantaire, Grantaire, please...”

“Shh,” Grantaire shushed against her skin. “Patience.” 

“Grantaire-”

“Shh!” Grantaire chuckled a little. “I want to savor this.”

“ _Grantaire-!_ ”

“I know, I know. You’ve never been patient, have you?”

Enjolras squirmed, giving a desperate whine. “Fuck, Grantaire, just-”

Grantaire decided that that was just the right time to press her mouth up, and sure enough Enjolras cut herself off with a breathless cry. 

And gods, if she thought the noises Enjolras made before were delicious, the noises she made now were _ambrosia_. She moaned and whimpered and keened as Grantaire pressed her tongue and lips to her clit, tasting her indulgently, leisurely. She held Enjolras hips, and she was vaguely aware that a few of her snakes had stretched out from her scalp and were resting contentedly on the warmth of Enjolras’ skin. And if Enjolras had noticed, she didn’t seem to mind. 

Grantaire hummed against Enjolras, pleasure blooming in her own stomach at the cry that came from the siren. She let her tongue circle Enjolras’ clit, and she wished he had filed her nails down, because she so wanted to know how Enjolras would react if she pressed her fingers into her at this moment, what kind of noises she would make. This wasn’t bad though, this was amazing, _perfect_ , because Enjolras was hot and wet against her tongue, and every one of her senses was filled with Enjolras.

Impulsively she shifted her attention, pressing her tongue inside Enjolras. Her tongue, she knew, was just a bit longer than a human’s tongue, and she wasn’t at all disappointed in Enjolras’ reaction. Above her Enjolras shouted and squirmed, and then one of her hands was grabbing desperately at Grantaire’s, hand, gripping it hard, grounding herself. 

“Grantaire,” gasped Enjolras, over and over again, like a prayer. “Grantaire, Grantaire, Grantaire...” 

Grantaire had to see her face. Just for a second, just for herself, because this was already enough masturbatory material to last her a lifetime, but she needed to _really_ fry her brain. 

So she pulled back just enough to look up,ignoring her snakes slight hisses of protest and. And. 

Enjolras was pink-faced and gasping, blonde hair splayed out like wings, cupping her own breast with her free hand. Her eye’s locked with Grantaire’s for a second, still deeply blue and intense, but wanting and aroused and directed at _her_.

Then Enjolras whimpered, squeezing Grantaire’s hand harder, and Grantaire dipped her head back down, pressing her tongue to back Enjolras’ cunt, licking long and deep, reveling in the broken cry from the siren above her. 

And it didn’t take long after that, because she quickly determining a pattern that had Enjolras keening and digging her taloned feet into the mattress beside Grantaire, stroking her entire cunt firmly, pausing occasionally to slip into her or lave over her clitoris, losing herself in her sweet taste and sweeter moans.

“Grantaire,” she gasped after a bit, tugging at Grantaire’s hand, hips stuttering slightly. “So good, yes, ah, please...”

And Grantaire could tell she was close, and she wanted so badly for Enjolras to come; she wanted it more than she wanted to come herself. So she turned her head slightly, just enough to press her mouth to her thigh and whisper, “Please come for me Enjolras.” 

She wasn’t sure if Enjolras heard it, or perhaps more felt it, but she turned back quickly, pressing firmly against her clitoris, and Enjolras was already shaking apart, moaning loud and high, and when she reached her orgasm Grantaire could feel it, feel her throbbing against her tongue, and she didn’t stop, licked her through her orgasm and until she stopped shaking from the aftershocks, only pulling back when her moans had subsided to breathy gasps and whimpers.

When she did pull back, breathing heavily herself, she only had the briefest moment to register that her face felt wet, and _why_ it felt wet before Enjolras was grabbing her shoulders and pulling her in, molding their mouths together. The kiss was hard and messy and Grantaire was sure Enjolras could taste herself on her lips, which definitely did something to Grantaire’s stomach, and then Enjolras was flipping them over, so now Grantaire was the one on her back, Enjolras lazily sprawled over her, still kissing her fiercely. 

“You’re amazing,” she panted when she finally broke the kiss. “You’re so amazing.” 

Grantaire didn’t really know what to say to that, because she really felt like Enjolras had stolen her line a little bit there.

Luckily Enjolras seemed perfectly willing to keep talking, kissing along Grantaire’s jaw and throat.

“I can’t believe we haven’t been doing this all this time because we were both being so stupid... You’re so amazing and... You’re so beautiful and, let me...” She was suddenly reaching down and rubbing Grantaire through her jeans, reminding Grantaire of how actually aroused she was right now, and gods, why was she still wearing pants? 

“What -ah!- What did I say about patience earlier?” gasped Grantaire, and she could feel Enjolras smiling against her collarbone before the hand moved to begin to unbutton her jeans.

“You said I’ve never been patient. Which is true, especially when it comes to what I want.”

Grantaire had a witty response, probably, but then Enjolras slipped her hands into her pants, rubbing her through where she had already soaked through the thin cotton of her underwear, and she could do nothing but gasp.

“Besides,” muttered Enjolras, clearly unable to keep the smirk out of her voice. “I think you’ve been patient enough for the both of us.”

“Enjolras, shit-” she tried, but Enjolras shushed her with a slight scrape of teeth on her clavicle and one last rub before she pulled her hand back, moving it to Grantaire’s bra.

“Shh,” she muttered, fumbling behind Grantaire. “My turn now. Or your turn, whatever. Ah, there we go.” Then she was successfully pulling off Grantaire’s bra, running her hands over her breasts, and Grantaire whimpered helplessly, because Enjolras was so warm and soft, and she just kept looking at her, making her snakes squirm on the sheets. She felt vulnerable under her gaze, and it was sort of frightening, but she didn’t want it to stop.

Enjolras leaned forward, nuzzling Grantaire’s cheek, pressing their bare chests together, and Grantaire gasped at the sensation, her hands going to steady themselves on Enjolras’ back, stroking down long feathers carefully, letting herself feel what had always been hidden from her.

Enjolras giggled against her cheek, and Grantaire was going to die because Enjolras never giggled, but then Enjolras was pushing at the hem of her jeans again, trying to shove them off. 

“Impatient,” chuckled Grantaire, lifting her hips to assist.

Enjolras made a noise of a agreement, then said “I want to see your face when you come,” and Grantaire didn’t have much of a response to that. 

Her jeans and underwear were pulled off shortly, and she didn’t have much time to feel exposed because Enjolras apparently had no intention of breaking skin-to-skin contact more than was necessary. She laid herself back down over Grantaire, one hand sliding down between them, brushing over her hips and the tops of her thighs, the other brushing her over her ribs, their faces and inch apart. 

“This is okay?” she asked seriously as she shifted up and over a bit so she could slip her hand between Grantaire’s legs, barely brushing over her wetness. 

Grantaire didn’t so much answer with words as she did a strained whimper, grabbing at Enjolras’ feathered shoulders again, her hips twitching upward. And then when Enjolras didn’t repeat the action she groaned “Yes, yes, more than okay, please-”

She could see just the slightest twitch of a smirk on Enjolras lips before she squeezed her eyes shut because Enjolras’ long, slender fingers were slipping over her, rubbing her with nothing between them, and it was too much and not enough. 

“More,” she whispered, her voice suddenly feeling very raw, and she kept making small noises she couldn’t help. She was not loud like Enjolras had been, but every groan she made and every agitated hiss from around her head seemed to echo in the room, because Enjolras was making her make them. 

Enjolras did not tease, when Grantaire asked for more she gave her more. She let her fingers slip inside of Grantaire, twitching them inside of her, and Grantaire rolled her hips in response, and fuck, Enjolras twisted her arm a bit so she could press her thumb to her clit, rubbing, and _fuck_.

“Is that good?” Enjolras was whispering, her breath hot on her face. “How do you like... Ah, please open your eyes Grantaire?”

Grantaire obeyed, making bleary eye contact, and jesus christ who knew eye-contact would be that hot?

Probably not most people who fucked a gorgon. Hah. 

(But Enjolras had never been most people.)

Enjolras was looking at her like, jesus, Grantaire couldn’t even describe it, not now. It was amazing and overwhelming and she couldn’t help but whine “Enjolras...”

“Is this good?” Enjolras asked again, and another slight shift and her fingers twitched and yes, yes that was definitely good.

“Yes,” she groaned. “Yes, that’s good, again, more, harder, Enjolras-”

Enjolras obeyed and Grantaire couldn’t help throwing her head back again as Enjolras fucked her steadily, fingers in her and on her, not letting up, and she could barely breathe and it was so perfect; it was more than she had ever dreamed of. 

Enjolras was kissing her neck, and Grantaire was so embarrassingly close, because she had been wet since Enjolras had kissed her on the couch, and because she could feel feathers tickling her chest, and because Enjolras was doing this, wanted to, wanted her. 

Enjolras looked at her like she _wanted her._

So she gasped out “Enjolras, I’m going to...” in her wrecked voice, and then Enjolras was moving up from her neck, because apparently she had been dead serious about wanting to watch her face when she finished. 

And that was pretty much what pushed Grantaire over the edge, because the next second she her hips were jerking and she was coming, gasping as she rode out her orgasm. 

And then it was over and Enjolras was slipping her fingers away, kissing Grantaire’s cheek, saying something.

A second later Grantaire realized she was saying “Was that good? I know I’m probably not as experienced as you but I just... wanted to make you...”

Grantaire shut her up by kissing her. 

When she pulled back she smirked a little at Enjolras, who was blushing, and gods, she wanted to burn blushing Enjolras into her memory forever. “I can’t believe you had to ask if that was good for me.”

Enjolras’ feathers were already ruffled, just like her hair was mussed, but the way they puffed a little was still noticeable. “Communication is very important when it comes to-”

“Zeus, Enjolras we can communicate later! It’s called afterglow.” 

“Well forgive me for trying to-”

“Oh my gods Mourning Dove, stop!” And Grantaire grabbed Enjolras so she could roll them over again, laughing, and suddenly Enjolras was laughing to, a surprised, joyful noise.

“I like your laugh,” Grantaire admitted. “I like you. A lot. Like. Fuck, I just really like you Enjolras. Always have.”

“I like you too.” Enjolras was smiling under her, and even though she could see her sharp teeth, it was the most beautiful, gentle-looking thing. “Will you stay the night?”

“You want me too?”

“I figured we could enjoy the afterglow now and talk in the morning.”

“You and talking.”

“You like my voice.”

Grantaire settled down next to Enjolras, her snakes, sleepy now, curling around her. “I like it best when its moaning my name.” 

“We could do that in the morning too.” Enjolras was laying down next to her then one of her hands going once again to Grantaire’s snakes, petting one of the closest ones as it settled into sleeping. 

“You’re so weirdly into my snakes,” she said with no malice, just a hint of confusion. 

“And you’re into my feathers. I like your snakes. And they like me.” 

“You’re so proud of that.”

“I am.” And then she was cuddling close to Grantaire, pulling a blanket over them, not bothering to turn off the lamp that dimly lit the room. “We can talk about this tomorrow?”

Grantaire smiled, not bothering to hide her fangs. “Whatever you want.”

And for once, without the assistance of alcohol, her snakes felt calm.


End file.
